Flung Out of Space
by iamtrollinginthedeep
Summary: It is New Year's Eve; America's most celebrated and popular event after Christmas. They have been on the run for a while now. Tired, but restless. Confused, but driven. And for now, it is enough. It has to be. A Carol/Therese fic.


**Flung Out of Space**

 _It is New Year's Eve; America's most celebrated and popular event after Christmas. They have been on the run for a while now. Tired, but restless. Confused, but driven. Among endless car rides, brief lunch stops and impromptu scenery breaks, they found a routine in their mad escapade. Or, not a routine, but a stability. An equilibrium. A peace of mind amidst the raging wars in their minds. And for now, it is enough. It has to be._

Therese's eyes dart around the room, round and eager. She is like a child who discovers Versailles for the very first time. Alas, it is only a hotel room. A fancy preferential suite perhaps, but still only a suite. Carol's wealth has always served her well in the past. Fur coats, expensive jewellery, feathered hats and costly wines have been her standard for years. But in that moment, with Therese examining the paintings on the wall, running her fingers along the curtain fabric and marvelling at the view, how she wishes she could offer this girl Versailles itself.

Snowflakes fall lightly from a jet black sky. It is eleven already. The two women settle in nice and quiet, emptying the contents of their suitcases on the bed. Carol leaves most of her garments concealed in her trunk, not out of fear of theft, but rather out of laziness. She prefers spending that time observing Therese.

Carol marvels at Therese's purity. She is so young, she thinks, as she brings a cigarette to her lips and inhales longingly. The smoke clouds around her silhouette, making her appear ethereal, like a dream.

For no particular reason except for the alcohol they had at dinner coursing through her veins, Therese starts spinning around in her flowing green dress and elegant hair. In that moment, she is the embodiment of joy. There is something about her laugh that enraptures. Something about the way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear that endears. Something about the way their eyes meet that electrifies.

"You look delightful, my dear," Carol says, the hint of a smile on her red lips.

Therese beams back so wide it stretches her features. A few wrinkles crease at the corners of her eyes.

What a brave girl, this Therese Belivet, Carol ponders. She closes her eyes and lets the memories of their first encounter flood in. She remembers sighting her from across the room a few days before Christmas. The department store was crowded with last minute shoppers, but there she was, standing like a soldier at her counter. She smiles when recalling Therese in her Santa hat, looking quite overwhelmed by the situation. Throngs of customers were constantly throwing themselves at her in urgency, and Carol cannot help thinking about how she wished to do the same.

How she _still_ wishes.

Carol's reveries are interrupted by the abrupt sound of water pouring down.

Therese has already jumped in the shower.

* * *

The young girl comes out clad in a simple towel wrapped around her chest as water drips from her hair and to the carpet. Carol has to exert aggressive self-control over herself not to stare.

It is tiring for Carol. To appear so strong and dominant whenever she is in presence of Therese. Because she has been playing that game since they met, using her wealth, status and charisma to seduce her. To lure her in. Money has always been known to enthral and attract common preys. But Therese is no common girl. And for the first time, the tide turns and Carol finds herself drawn to the young girl like a magnet. She became the helpless prey of an unaware predator.

When she finally glances back up from the puddle on the carpet, Carol's eyes meet Therese's. The young girl looks afraid, unsure. Remaining motionless, she clutches the sides of her towel harder. Carol wants to talk, to move, to dream, but something is preventing her. She wants to tell her everything about herself, from her past to Rindy, from Harge to Abby. She wants to explain why all of her relationships are convoluted so. Why everything is so _hard_.

But no word seems to make it out. In that silence, there is a struggling eternity.

With a sigh, Carol surrenders to her mutism and heads for the shower.

Even with the door closed and the shower on, she hears Therese humming to herself. Using her hands to steady herself against the wall, she holds her breath and shuts her eyes to focus on the melody. She recognises one of the Christmas songs they heard on the radio that morning. Her voice is soft and clear. Carol presses her forehead on the cold tile, breathing harshly. _What in the world is she doing_ , she curses herself.

And with the water gliding down her back, she falls to her knees, her tears mixing up in the bathtub.

* * *

Midnight is only a few minutes away until the New Year. The television is on and rowdy cheering can be heard in the background. Therese is sitting at the dressing table, staring at the mirror in her bathrobe. Carol walks to her after having put on hers, a beer bottle in hand.

"Happy New Year," she says as they clink their drinks. They take a swig for good measure.

The famous _Auld Lang Syne_ starts playing to see the last year off. Somehow, time matters very little.

Carol's hands are resting on Therese's shoulders, softly. Gently. Her heart is thumping in her chest. Undoubtedly, Therese hears it. She must _know_. And yet, it is not enough.

Carol wants more.

So she starts talking not to explode. "Harge and I never spent New Year's Eve together," she starts, a hand playing distractedly in the young girl's hair. "Always business functions… His clients to entertain…"

Therese is still glancing at their reflection when she answers. "I always spend New Year's alone, in crowds. But I'm not alone this year…"

And when Therese reaches for the older woman's hand and squeezes, hard, Carol's heart stops.

She wants more.

She wants it all.

So her hands drop to her waist and smoothly untie the belt of her bathrobe. Underneath is tender naked flesh. There is a pause. Just long enough for the two of them to lose the very notion of time and space.

And Carol bends down, kissing Therese boldly on the lips. When she responds with rousing enthusiasm, everything suddenly falls into place. Her affair, her divorce, her road trip. Her mistakes, her hesitations, her anguish.

Everything matters. It all gains meaning.

The kiss is gentle, kind and respectful. But it is full of promise, Carol thinks, which is confirmed moments later by Therese's soft whisper.

"Take me to bed."

The young girl stands up with avidity in her eyes; with an urgency that makes Carol's insides churn with lust. It is unadultered passion and pent-up frustration of a lifetime of secrecy.

She lies on her back, offered, waiting. _Expectant_.

Her bathrobe slides off her paper skin shoulders. It reveals dark nipples, erected in all their glory.

And Carol caves in.

Her lips find the soft flesh. They graze every centimeter, trailing along her collarbones, ascending the column of her neck. Her wet mouth ventures at the shell of Therese's ear, nipping at her lobe, sighing in excitement.

The young girl's chest heaves at the sensual contact, her hips arch up to meet Carol's body.

The nightstand lamp is dim, but every one of Therese's features radiates under Carol's fervent scrutiny; her dilated pupils, her reddening cheeks, the pulse beating at her neck. She takes in the small and delicate frame of the girl beneath her. Wanting and in her mercy.

They kiss again lavishly. Carol's bathrobe comes off too and their bodies press against each other, fully. Their aching centers come in full contact and the older woman shivers from head to toes. It's so painfully beautiful to have her naked, to touch her, to have her completely. She takes a breath.

And her mouth paves a way down the young girl's stomach. With her hands pinning the both sides of her waist down on the mattress, Carol's warm breath whispers her desire against Therese's pleasure. And Therese groans. And when she kisses her there, licks her, sucks on her, she moans. Loud.

Firm hands come to tangle in blonde locks of hair as the moaning turn to gasping and heavy panting. Heels dig into shoulder blades as the kisses become more feverish.

Suddenly, Carol misses Therese. She misses her mouth, her face, her presence. She climbs back up her body and vigorously captures her lips again. Her want has driven her to the edge. Her fingers dance around Therese's center before pushing inside at last.

They both tighten. They both quiver. They both sigh.

After having marvelled at the sensation of being inside for a good moment, Carol starts pushing in and out, in regular motions, adjusting to the tightness. Therese draws short breaths, firmly grasping at the older woman's back. When her hand slides around the back of Carol's neck and squeezes, the entirety of her soul shivers.

In that moment, she realises it. What this _means_. What it is she has been feeling all this time and why it mattered so. In that moment, Carol surrenders to the idea of being hers.

It is then that she feels teasing fingers below her stomach. They are caressing, asking for permission. She opens her eyes and meets Therese's. Fear and doubt have left her at once. And for Carol, that is the softest blanket that has ever been wrapped around her soul. She presses herself on the girl's fingers.

And they delve in. Swiftly. And Carol lets out a gasp. Her back arcs, as if to take them in even deeper. She rolls her hips slowly but repeatedly, in a gentle rhythm, as the fingers push and pull.

To give Therese better access, she flips them in the sheets so that the girl lies over her, careful not to break the mutual embrace.

Her free hand comes to the young girl's cheek, brushing tenderly, as the shadow of a smile plays on her lips.

And eventually, the rhythms increase. Both women tremble at the touch of the other. Muscles tense up, breaths come short, sweltering heat shelters them. And as the apex of their communion nears the edge, they hold on to the other to the point where there is no end to Carol's body and no beginning to Therese's.

They crash together. Eyes closed. Undone.

Whole.

When Carol's eyes flutter open at last, she is met with the patient gaze of her Therese. They are serene, tender and warm. She is glowing. And Carol's heart swoons.

She is almost scared to move. To disrupt the perfect peace they have just created. But, with shaky hands, she pushes a stray strand of hair out of the young girl's face.

And in that extraordinary bit of serendipity, Carol breathes softly, "My angel… flung out of space."


End file.
